


Recovery

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor/Patient, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when therapy started to become an opportunity to show off for her, only that the speed and sharpness of her responses were slowly littered with lost words or gasped breaths that sent shivers down his spine. It was just another way to get under her skin, he had justified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostabeauty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostabeauty/gifts).



> A while back the very lovely almostabeauty prompted me with the idea of veteran soldier Jaime secretly falling in love with his physiotherapist Brienne, but when the Veteran's Ball looms, Dr Hyle Hunt asks her out, and Jaime is forced to deal both with his feelings and the fact he's been playing up some of his injuries to keep seeing her. This is that fic :) 
> 
> Almost, I'm so sorry it's taken such a long time to finish this for you! It was meant to be a ficlet and turned into a seven chapter thing when I realised there was too much I wanted to cover! I really hope you like it and it puts a smile on your face :)
> 
> I want to also thank my FABULOUS friend and beta reader, RoseHeart. She's put up with a lot of reading and re-reading of certain parts of this story and I am so grateful that she's perfectly patient, oh so talented and an amazing friend to boot. (If you haven't read her latest story, I'd strongly recommend it. It's awesome!)
> 
> Also, thank you to all the lovely ladies on JBO who have been so supportive while I've been posting about writing updates and generally complaining. Sorry about that. 
> 
> As always, anything you recognise doesn't belong to me, I'm just borrowing my favourite characters in order to give them a happy ending.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Tyrion asked, glancing over at his unusually silent brother as their chauffeur driven car slowed to a halt outside the entrance to the hospital. There was just enough concern in his voice for Jaime's cautiously confident facade to waiver, though, as he lifted his head from the custom leather seat, he read too much mischief in the younger man's eyes for it all to be genuine.

"It's physiotherapy, not family counselling," Jaime drawled back, bracing his weight on his right elbow as he straightened and tried not to wince at the familiar stab of pain that ran from his wrist to his shoulder. He could probably still find leftover painkillers rolling around in his jacket pockets, but the doctors were slowly weaning him off them and Jaime would be damned if he was going to give them more ammunition to keep treating him like he was about to break. "The only reason you're here is that they won't let me drive with this," he waved his heavily bandaged hand in the air. "Apparently I'm going to stay side-lined until the wench signs me off."

Tyrion grinned. "So when do I get to meet her?"

"Who?"

"The wench. Dr. Tarth. If I had a dragon for every time I've heard her name over the last few months...well I'd be far richer than I am now."

Jaime reached for the door handle, his eyes narrowing until only a sliver of green was visible. "Is that why you insisted on coming along?"

"You had us all worried, big brother," he replied as if that was enough of an explanation. "But you've stopped popping pain pills like candy and the kids told me you took them bowling last weekend. Cella said she's never been more embarrassed in her life."

"Dance mat," Jaime agreed, his darkening mood lifting for a second, and Tyrion groaned good-naturedly.

"I bet your doctor friend would have loved to see you on that, she'd have you signed off in minutes."

"No, she really wouldn't." Jaime had to admit the prospect was tempting though, it had been a long year since he'd been the only survivor pulled out of a destroyed armoured car in war torn Essos, crushing his favoured right side and leaving most of his hand behind. On finding him crippled and comatose, they'd airlifted him out of there quicker than he would have been able to blink, more on the threat of his father’s orders, Jaime assumed, than any actual command coming down from the General's office. "She's..." he paused, trying to pull away from the clutches of the past, old insults immediately coming to mind but none feeling right for the situation. "Brienne."

"If you've advanced to first names, things must be getting serious," Tyrion joked, knocking on the glass partition in order to get their driver’s attention as Jaime failed to open the door on his second try. "It's been what, nine months?"

"Ten."

Once the trauma doctors had done all they could, Jaime had been left to mourn the loss of his men, of the only part of himself that had mattered, in the best recovery unit money could buy in Kings Landing. To any who cared, and Jaime could list those people on his remaining, fully functional, hand, it appeared as if he was being kept out of harm’s way, out of the public eye, only to descend deeper into a self-inflicted pit of misery. Too many days he'd wanted nothing more than the constant cycle of repetitive questions, numbing medication and frowning doctors to end. He'd wanted it _all_ to end. Jaime knew, in his heart, that he should have died with his men and not been allowed to linger in a place he no longer belonged, gone with the ones who'd had loving families waiting, the ones who'd been barely old enough to drive, the ones who would forever be heroes. If he couldn't ever hold a gun, or be deemed fit enough to command an army, again then, in his mind, there was no point in rehabilitation. Without the purpose he'd spent half a lifetime training for, he was nothing, nothing but a mess of wasting muscle, uncomfortable skin grafts, and lost hope.

And, on his very worst day, when he was ready to say goodbye to what was left of his world and give up on everything, they had sent in _her_. The youngest physiotherapist in the department and the only member of staff in the recovery unit he hadn't cussed out. Yet. He lasted less than twenty seconds before his mouth ran away from him. But, after fending off his remarks with the ease of an Olympic fencer, she stayed with him for a full afternoon, as if making up for all the sessions he'd missed. Throughout what he saw as pointless exercises Jaime kept up the barrage of insults, calling her stupid, stubborn, ugly, the grimace playing across her furrowed brow and full lips as she watched him struggle doing nothing to stop his train of thought. But for all her retorts that he was an entitled, arrogant coward, their words equally loaded in order to pull a reaction from the other, her hands were gentler than he deserved and that alone almost felt like a stay of execution.

Looking back on those first few, bitterly tense weeks with the barely qualified Dr. Tarth, Jaime didn't think he lied to her once, despite half a hundred furiously argumentative sessions. Though for all his honesty, constantly making notes about how her broad features, clusters of freckles, and strong, muscular form added up to a whole that was as unattractive as possible, it quickly became obvious that the girl was lacking the guile and deception he'd grown used to seeing in the people around him. It was a much needed breath of fresh air, Jaime had reluctantly admitted to himself one night, searching for comfort from the flashing nightmares that kept him from sleeping peacefully, but he soon found she was actually a far better adversary when she forgot to hold back and teetered on the edge of anger, her eyes blazing and skin burning. And every time he managed to push all the right buttons, watching her think about leaving before viciously parrying the blow, never quite giving into his well-aimed attacks because she had a duty of care, Jaime couldn't help but begin to find a strange joy in their back and forth encounters.

As with many of the veterans, she quickly fell into the habit of calling him 'soldier' when they were alone together, an identity Jaime could no longer accept, though his discharge had come through with colourful honours. He nicknamed her 'wench' in return, the term found in one of the forgotten medieval romance paperbacks in his room, picking up on her own pig-headedness by refusing to refer to her by anything else. But other than his brother and the kids, teenage orphans now his stepsister and their father had died the previous winter, Dr. Tarth was Jaime's only frequent visitor. Meeting with him at least six times a week, he was almost thankful that the ferocity of their disagreements didn't diminish with time or familiarity.

Sometime between the second and third month of regularly scheduled appointments, shortly after Tommen had confessed that their family couldn't afford to lose him too, Jaime shocked himself by starting to give therapy his full attention. And he had also begun to look forward to seeing Brienne every day. Her truly astonishing eyes would sweep up his healing arm, or over ribs that still hurt occasionally, checking the scar tissue covering his pinned knee and ankle, her gaze methodical and without the pity so many of the nurses couldn't hide. More often than not, on those days, he initiated their continuing battles with a smirk before leaping into the fray, having already learned that she would be right behind him.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when therapy started to become an opportunity to show off for her, only that the speed and sharpness of her responses were slowly littered with lost words or gasped breaths that sent shivers down his spine. It was just another way to get under her skin, he had justified, and with summer in full bloom and her reactions dancing behind his eyelids, he didn't always find a need to wear a shirt to exercise in. Though, occasionally, his tactics of throwing her off balance seemed to slightly backfire, unable to swallow the moans that bubbled up his throat unbidden at having her hands on him after he'd pushed himself too hard. But the unsightly blush taking up residence across her cheeks afterwards gave him nothing but delight. And by the time the morning arrived that he thought about Brienne asking him into bed, rather than out of it, Jaime was too confused and aroused to know what to do about it.

Still, even after settling into a routine of physiotherapy, group sessions and prescribed self-reflection, it took seven months of hard work, before Jaime was allowed to walk out of the hospital and head back to a home he couldn't really remember. And, though his brother and the kids encouraged him to find pleasure in simple things like running with the dogs and silly family board games, he missed the daily visits from one of the few people he'd found a connection with who wasn't a relation.

With the weeks ticking by since his discharge, she hadn't quite disappeared from his life yet, Jaime's ongoing rehabilitation meaning he still had thrice weekly sessions with Dr. Tarth in the often packed physiotherapy gym. It wasn't the same as having her all to himself, though it would have taken more than a few onlookers for him not to notice how her preferred black and blue leggings emphasised all he'd once thought of as unappealing, her long long legs and toned ass awkwardly driving him to distraction. And despite the blood rushing from his head, Jaime always found just enough of a spark to provoke her into a challenge, running at her side, lifting weights with her, wondering what it would take to get Brienne to shower with him too.

"Earth to Jaime," Tyrion laughed by his side. "Unless you want to go home and mope some more, I think you should get out of the car."

"I have not been moping."

"You've been worse than when Cella had a crush on that Stark boy. You know you can ask to change doctors, right?"

Jaime grappled with the door handle a third and final time, managing to open it just before their smart mouthed driver could do it for him instead. “Cella was 15 that Christmas,” he muttered almost as an afterthought, dismissing his emotionally stunted brother’s notion that something had changed in him.

“Your point being?” Tyrion asked as Jaime continued to grumble under his breath, working through a handful of reasons why he couldn’t change doctors. She knew his case better than anybody else, she wasn’t intimidated by his record or his family, she was… _important_. “Call me when you’re done, brother, I’ll bring the car back around.”

“I’m not going to introduce you two later, either,” Jaime promised. “I’ll just get a cab.”

“I won’t wait up.”

Jaime rolled his eyes, a habit he’d most likely picked up from the wench after the countless hours they’d spent together, and hitched his gym bag into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. The weight still felt odd on his left side, but he was trying not to dwell on such trivial things anymore, and sent Tyrion off with a sarcastic wave before walking into the hospital. Once inside, he exchanged a handful of pleasantries with the receptionist, her smile wide with the promise of another attempt of asking him out for drinks. She was pretty enough, Jaime had decided months ago, but his interest wasn’t held for even the time needed for her to buzz him through to the gym, his mind solely focused on whatever the wench might have in store for him that day.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Brienne and Jaime spends some time in a pool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed by the reaction to this story! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, I only hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did chapter 1.
> 
> As always, I must thank my brilliant beta and friend, RoseHeart. She's been amazing in helping me get the flow right in places where I tend to let the words run away from me. 
> 
> I'm going to try and post a chapter of this every few days. It's all written so there shouldn't be any great delays in posting, like with some of my other, still unfinished, stories.

Jaime was early, as usual, choosing a spot along one of the unadorned whitewashed walls from which to watch his favourite tall, blonde therapist finish cooling down with her last patient. As much as Jaime had adopted a weekly routine, Brienne had even more of a reason to do the same, and the brunette she usually saw before him was most definitely female the last time he checked. The man that stood beside her now looked to be no older than thirty, his nose just brushing the slope of her broad shoulder and Jaime felt his upper lip curl in displeasure as the younger man reached out to touch what should have been strictly off limits. As his fingers danced over the undefined dip at Brienne’s waist, to Jaime’s great surprise, she merely blushed, worrying at each of her lips in turn as the jackass stood on his toes to whisper in her ear.

Gritting his teeth, Jaime fought the urge to ball his hand into a fist, remembering how the last time he’d called out a man overstepping his mark with Brienne, it had put his recovery back another couple of weeks. It had been worth it, however, to see the flamed haired orderly turn tail the next time he’d seen Jaime casually strolling around the grounds with Brienne by his side. Though not strictly part of his physical therapy, they’d talked that day about their respective pasts, Jaime doing more teasing than talking at first, but, by their second circuit of the garden, he’d opened up enough for her to promise to accompany him whenever he was ready to visit his men. It was a good enough memory for his stomach to twist as he continued to watch her squirm under the attentions of another unworthy opponent, the seconds ticking by only making him feel sicker and angrier.

“Jaime!” her voice cut through the descending haze of tangled emotion not a moment too soon, Brienne still blushing as she strode across the room to swap their usual cursory sweeping glances, though Jaime suspected that hers was more objective than his own had become. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least another ten minutes.”

Composing himself the best he could, Jaime smirked, once again trying to catch her off guard. “New driver, wench, he knew all the best shortcuts.”

She frowned, automatically starting to correct him before shaking her head. “I take it that means you’re ready to start.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the fact that the man she’d just been failing to flirt with was still hovering by the door, sending out an over exaggerated parting wink. “In a rush, are we?”

Her response was almost too quick to be comfortable. “I just thought you’d…we’d…” Jaime kept staring and she eventually heaved a sigh of resignation. “Ok, if you must know, I have a date tonight.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, but it sounded bitter even to his own ears. Brienne opened and closed her mouth in quick succession, searching for an explanation but coming up empty, Jaime putting her out of her misery with an unsavoury leer that left her bristling, instead. “And what did you have to agree to for that?”

“It’s…it’s just dinner. You and I have had dinner together a few times at the unit, this d-doesn’t mean what you’re implying.”

“Does he know that? Or is it a ‘she’? We never did get a chance to talk about what you were in to."

“Get your mind out of the gutter, soldier,” she snapped, her skin fading back to a paint splattered pallid canvas as she retrieved a dog eared notebook from her pocket. “I’ve been looking over the regime since I saw you at the weekend, and I think we need to get you back into the pool if you’re still experiencing some problems with your knee. You might have overdone the weight training.”

Jaime hadn't bothered telling her that his knee was the last thing worrying him, but he wasn’t about to excuse himself out of an opportunity to see Brienne in her bathing suit again. “Will you be joining me?” he smiled, batting his eyelashes as she struggled not to smile back.

“I think we’re past you needing me to hold your hand every step of the way.”

"Somehow I can't see you as the hand holding type," he admitted jovially and her gaze darted away, a tiny insight into something they'd never had the time, or the need, to discuss before. For all her strength and power, Jaime was surprised to find her somewhat of a romantic at heart, beginning to be able to see more in what she didn't say even when they were locked into a battle of wills.

She huffed the suggestion away. "You're confusing me again with someone who buys into your twinkling pretty but shallow act. Remember where we started from?"

He did. He always would. "I'm hurt."

"You're recovering from worse."

"Not until we get back in the water."

"We? I don't think that's..."

"Then don't think," Jaime interrupted, pushing himself up off the wall and proudly realising that he was at least half a head taller than Brienne's earlier companion. She crossed her arms defensively as he moved, keeping him from stepping any closer, though they were already nose to nose without trying. Taking a breath, his heart racing like she'd added sprint starts to his exercises, Jaime blinked slowly in a desperate attempt not to fall into her widening eyes that were swirling with questions. "You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if I drowned."

She sighed his name, the breath displacing strands of hair lying over his forehead and sending a jolt of warmth from his heart to his groin. "You're strong enough."

The glee in his responding grin was too big to be contained but he tried anyway, dipping his head in such a way that allowed him to hear a catch, imagined or otherwise, in each of Brienne's inhales. "Maybe, but is _he_?"

"He isn't...," she started haltingly, colour rising anew to kiss along her cheekbones. "Jaime...why do you even care?"

He shrugged, playing at being nonchalant. "If you get distracted by this guy or he breaks your heart," Jaime clenched his fist again, hiding the motion behind his back as he lied smoothly. "Then my recovery suffers. I can't have my wench on anything less than top form."

Brienne scowled. "I can promise you he won't distract me from my work. Hyle is a doctor here too, and he's just come back from his second tour in the army, so understanding how important what we all do here isn't going to be a problem."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to make me jealous. Is he a rocket scientist too?"

"Shut your mouth." Her over bitten lower lip trembled ever so slightly as she parried the half-hearted attack and Jaime suddenly wanted nothing more than to taste it, to nibble along where it had been ravaged and left raw, to draw it into his mouth and hear her moan his name. Blood rushed in his ears, unable to pull away from the fantasy, and her words disappeared into the humid air of the gym. "...once you give him a chance...are you ok?"

He snapped to attention, conditioned to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat, though he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her downturned lips. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You were staring into space."

"You were boring me."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not here just to entertain you?" she huffed out yet another world weary sigh as Jaime grinned, trying hard not to bask in the feeling of having her focused solely on him. "If you've finished mocking the idea of me going on a date, can we start?"

His single nod was enough for her to step away and head towards the door, but she stopped almost as quickly, glancing back over her shoulder to check he was following. Jaime laughed as he rushed to catch up, matching her long strides with ease. "You're going to miss me when I'm better."

There was a second where he thought Brienne looked almost wistful at the prospect of losing him, but then she blinked and was gently laughing back. "I'm going to be able to take on three more patients when you're better."

"I'm irreplaceable, wench, there's no one like me."

"Thank the gods."

***********************************

Jaime spent the next hour happily going through the motions in an otherwise abandoned pool, flashing his abs and throwing out attempts at getting Brienne to join him, rubbing her up the wrong way in the process. Eventually they came to an uneasy agreement that had her perching on the edge in order to keep a closer eye on him, her bare feet absently dangling in the water.

"Stop it," she kept growling as he amended his turns to tickle her ankles, though the admonishment was lacking any real hostility. "Don't you have a pool at home you can play in?"

"I do, but there isn't a giant wench in there that I can mess with."

Her answering eye roll was so pronounced that her pale eyelashes fluttered viciously and almost before he realised he'd hypocritically grown distracted enough to lose his footing, Jaime was wrapped up in strong arms. "I told you to stop showing off," she muttered. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Do I not feel ok?" he let the waves kicked up by her splashing entry move him closer, feeling Brienne burning up through her slicked to the skin shirt, thinking about counting the beads of water clinging to her lashes or maybe the freckles dotting over the healed break in her nose. "For someone who wasn't worried you were quick enough to come to my rescue."

"Your brother doesn't deserve to lose another sibling, no matter how stupid or reckless that man is."

He could have apologised, should have apologised, knowing what he did about her unravelled childhood, how many sisters and brothers she hadn't been able to grow up with, but, instead, Jaime threw an arm around her back and pulled Brienne into an awkwardly positioned half hug. "You've been so focused on saving everyone that you've forgotten it's ok to admit you like me," he told her, fighting the urge to put his head on her shoulder as the tension left her body and she turned into the unusually comforting gesture. "Who am I going to tell if you did?"

"You're a patient," she replied, letting him hold her for a moment too long before bouncing away again. "I'm not supposed to _like_ you." There was an unmistakable stress on the penultimate word and, suddenly, they were thrust into a different conversation all together as Brienne scrambled to find an explanation. "I mean...I'm...you're not...appropriate for me to..."

"Befriend?" Jaime offered, the alternative so close now that it almost felt like he could reach out and pluck it from the air. "Sorry, but you're a little too late there, wench. Acquaintances don't usually think to exchange meaningful secrets about their pasts, or are you forgetting the last time I got you all wet?"

It had been a shower, rather than a pool, all those months ago, but, as he lifted an eyebrow and continued to stare, Brienne turned the colour of ripe strawberries like they'd fucked against that blue and white tiled wall rather than spending half an hour under the stream discussing the downward spiral of his illustrious military career.

"We know each other too well, Brienne. It makes sense for us to band together."

She opened her mouth to counter his argument, a sliver of doubt starting to pierce through his over confident facade, wondering if Hyle had been privy to some of her most guarded stories yet, and the instinctive growl that made its way up his throat seemed to force her to rethink her next move.

"Jaime..." she started, his name coming as an all too familiar exasperated sigh as she shook her head, her brilliant blue eyes darting from him to the door to the rippling water, repeating the cycle over and over as if not one of the available options were safe to stare at for long. "I think somebody else wants the pool. Maybe next time," Brienne continued with a steadying breath and he felt something in his chest tighten, hoping it was more than professional pride that had her looking forward to spending more time together. "You should come straight up to the treatment rooms rather than the gym. If you're still experiencing problems, and you can't take the hydrotherapy seriously, then we'll need to reassess you."

Jaime grimaced automatically, his first assessment had been with a Dr. Qyburn and the memory of how he'd ached for days afterwards was still fresh. "Don't you think you torture me enough?"

"I don't enjoy seeing anyone in pain," she scowled down at him as she inelegantly rose out of the pool, wrapping her arms around her chest as Jaime's gaze drifted over the defined muscles now visible through the drenched fabric covering her legs and torso. Catching sight of the tips of her small breasts straining against the stretchy material, he subconsciously licked his lips, growing more and more uncomfortable as she hovered over him, exposed and steaming in the cooler air. "Trust me, that isn't what this is about."

"So you have something more interesting in mind, then?"

Her scowl turned into a glare, a moment of uneasy silence passing between them before an impatient knocking sound rang through the space. His hackles rose as he noticed the same dark haired man who'd been bothering Brienne earlier waving through the glass door.

"You know," she replied slowly, glancing between the two men vying for her attention, Jaime unsure to which one she was trying not to smile at. "Anyone else with those pecs and biceps...."

"I was wondering how long it was going to be until you noticed," he smiled, shifting his weight in order not to focus so much on what was happening between his legs, and he was greeted with another snapping reply.

"If you'd let me finish, _soldier_ , I was going to say anyone who looks like you wouldn't usually need to be seeing a physiotherapist three times a week." There was a note of curiosity rather than suspicion in her voice but her eyes were still wary. "Are you sure there's not something else going on that I can't help with?"

"Scouts honour, wench," Jaime swore, saluting her with a wink that seemed to do more to rile up the man watching than Brienne herself. "Ask my brother, I've even been sleeping better."

"No nightmares?"

_No_ , Jaime thought, _I dream of you_ , but as she finally accepted the truth hiding among his jokes, he watched her leave without saying a thing.

For now.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaime and Brienne spend some more time together and Jaime runs into Hyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a little later than expected, I've not been feeling too well this week and didn't get around to posting last night before I had to go to bed very early. 
> 
> But, anyway, here is chapter three. Thank you again to everyone who is reading, kudosing and commenting, I did feel more nervous than I had done in a long while when I started posting this but you've all been so supportive and lovely. Thank you! All of you!
> 
> I have to also say a special thank you to RoseHeart. This fic would have stalled somewhere around chapter 5, my confidence absolutely gone, if it hadn't been for her friendship and patient guidance. She is a superstar!

Brienne was as good as her word, trying to make his re-assessment as painless as possible while wincing each time he genuinely seemed to be hurting, but Jaime still played up every niggle he could. Though he knew that it was more than likely a combination of age and dozens of healed injuries, his fortieth birthday mere weeks away, it didn't stop him from goading the young woman currently testing the rotation of his shoulder into making it up to him by sharing details of her recent date.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality works both ways, you know," Jaime promised through gritted teeth as Brienne hummed an unintelligible sound and pressed a palm firmly against the small of his back. Almost immediately he squared his shoulders, feeling his rib cage expand without even a twinge of pain, despite how his thoughts were spiralling out of control at what that warm pressure would feel like elsewhere. If she hadn't been such a stickler for the rules, he wondered if he'd have been able to talk her into giving him a therapeutic rub down, but the thought was disappointedly fleeting as she started to move her hands down his flanks. Jaime found more enjoyment in listening to her sharp intake of breath as he twisted and offered up his impressively defined abs to her touch, rather than focusing on how easily she was arousing him. Again. "Though if you're this eager to feel up another man, I guess it can't have gone too well."

"This is my _job_ ," she reminded him, though her hands quickly slipped from his stomach, one coming up to rest on his right hip as she asked him to take a couple of steps forward.

Jaime tried to hide the flexibility he had all but recovered since the joint had been near dislocated, stumbling on his second stride and glancing back. "Is there a rule somewhere that means you can't-"

"Yes."

"You don't know what I was going to say," he insisted, taking another step forward and pulling her along with him.

"Of course I do," Brienne replied softly, her breath warm along his cheek as she seamlessly changed the subject. "Have you ever tried yoga? Low impact, good for joint mobility," she paused, so close that he could almost hear the reasons behind the hesitation. "And you'd probably get a lot of female attention. My...my friends run a studio not far from here if you wanted to give it a go."

"So you can appreciate the positives in life," he laughed humourlessly as Brienne danced out of touching distance, momentarily distracted by the sound of her furiously vibrating phone lying on the treatment table. "What day would be best for you?"

"I'm not..."

"Or you could answer my original question."

"This isn't an ‘either-or’ situation," she sighed, rolling her eyes as the demands of the outside world went unanswered. "Fine. It went...fine? Are you happy now?"

"You don't sound so sure."

“Jaime,” she warned, but there was little threat hiding in the attempt at admonishment. “It’s alright. Really. You don’t have to pretend to be interested,” Brienne smiled tentatively, indicating he should take a seat before they moved onto the next part of the assessment. “We only ever have a limited amount of time together and I shouldn’t be wasting it by talking about me.”

“You’re more interesting then you give yourself credit for,” Jaime muttered honestly, throwing himself down into the less than comfortable chair she had claimed at the beginning of the hour. “Besides, if we didn’t run over, like always,” he glanced up to check the regulation clock. But instead he found a slow bloom of colour caressing her skin from neck to cheek as Brienne lowered herself into the opposing seat, her guileless blue eyes blinking down at him with a dozen unasked questions causing Jaime’s mind to wander away from deciding which of the seven hells Dr. Hunt had seen fit to take her to. Batting his lashes, and unknowingly copying her rhythm, he watched as her blush rose up once again in ugly triumph. “I’d only be waiting for my car in the baking sunshine.”

“We do have a room you can do that in.”

“I suppose I could work on my tan,” he continued. “But I wouldn’t want to distract anyone who might be looking down from her fourth floor office.”

“Seven hells,” she swore. “This is why I always schedule your appointments right before my breaks.”

“Wait, what?”

“If I told you that we went to that new Meereense restaurant and I had to order something I couldn’t pronounce, would that make you shut up?”

"On the Street of Sisters? Aren't those dishes numbered like on their take out menu?"

"Please tell me you're joking."

"My brother's dating choices have been wide and varied," he explained, almost apologetic. "During his most recent hot but crazy blonde Mother Nature phase, we all developed a taste for Meereenese cuisine."

Brienne stared for a second before mulishly setting her jaw and exhaling loudly. "Maybe I should have asked you to help trial the place with me. We could have gone for lunch or..." she trailed off, her eyes widening as her mistake dawned, though all Jaime could think of were the deep blue oases of tranquillity his regiment had occasionally stumbled upon in the desert. "That's not what I meant," Brienne blurted out in a rush, fidgeting uncharacteristically in her chair. "I...only the girls are vegetarian...and I couldn't...I don't have..."

He wanted so much to take her in his arms then, to reassure her that she'd merely toed the line he had been pushing against for weeks. And though he hadn't much experience in the art of comfort, Jaime was surprised her date hadn't already put her mind at ease about the menu mix up. Like he would have done. Like he was thinking of doing anyway. "If I hadn't known that you don't make friends easily, you admitting to spending your breaks with your best patient made that abundantly clear."

"You're my most demanding patient, not my best," she grumbled.

"That's just your way of saying I'm still special."

"Keep telling yourself that, Jaime."

"Oh, I will." She snorted inelegantly at his response, re-folding her arms while continuing to study him. "So do you want me to bring donuts next time? Or sandwiches, maybe? I wouldn't want you to miss out because you're here. With me," he teased, baiting her to bite.

"Do you even know where the kitchen is in your apartment?"

"Town house. And of course I do," he grinned proudly. "It's where the coffee lives."

"You're so lucky you're rich, otherwise you'd probably have starved by now." Brienne shook her head but couldn't stop herself from smiling back, solicitude and solutions still swirling around her freckles. "I could bring one of the instructors here if you don’t want to go to a yoga class. Margaery owes me a couple of favours."

"Gods, you're stubborn."

"And you're ridiculous, but you don't hear me harping on about it."

"Isn't that what you're doing now?" he asked softly, shuffling forward until their knees knocked and he felt a shiver raise the hairs along his arms. She frowned at the unexpected contact but didn't pull away until the sound of a car horn blasted through their comfortably settled reverie. Jaime could have sworn he heard her curse when his phone went off an impatiently short moment later, signalling the end of another surprisingly intimate encounter.

Brienne's quickly mumbled apology was business as usual, though. Her eyes caressed the floor in failure, worrying about why she was still no closer to finding an answer to why he wasn't recovering as well as he should have been, the second boom of the horn sending her skittering towards the door like they'd been caught in the act. She looked so dejected that he found he couldn't dredge up a joke as he passed her in the doorway, making a spur of the moment decision to offer her his right hand for inspection. Surprise flickered over her forehead, but before it became something else, she smoothly turned it palm up and waited for him to wiggle fingers Jaime knew he wouldn't still have if not for Brienne.

"It's not your fault," he purred, feeling her grip tighten and loosen as he performed the barrage of exercises that had been drilled into him, casually rocking up onto his toes to brush his cheek against hers. "It's not your fault," he repeated into her ear like a secret as she dropped his hand, fighting the urge to touch, to nuzzle, to kiss. "You're the best doctor I've ever met." The wave of heat rising off her skin nearly burned his, turning his parting quip in to an unforgivingly breathless promise. "Until next time, wench."

Her voice followed him down the corridor, so gentle and straightforward that Jaime didn't see the man approaching him from the opposite direction until it was too late. "Take care, soldier," he cautioned, echoing Brienne's usual goodbye as the guy in camouflage scrubs gave Jaime the once over, ending with his healing right hand. "Wait, you weren't Bee's five o'clock, were you?"

"Bee?"

"Sorry, mate," he replied amicably, raising his hand as if to clap it against Jaime's shoulder in a show of solidarity, but, almost immediately the action was decided against as the older man's green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I guess that nickname's just between me and her," he shrugged, nonchalant and dismissive, looking past Jaime as he spoke to stare further down the corridor.

"It seems so," Jaime replied coolly. In a previous life, the shorter, rather plain looking inferior officer should have thrown up a salute as soon as he saw Jaime approaching, though now, after the war wounds and rehabilitation, the cocky lieutenant couldn't muster up enough respect to even look at him while he flippantly referred to Brienne in a way he know she'd hate. "Dr. Tarth is just finishing up now. I'm sure she'll be out in a minute or two."

"There can't be too many doctors still happy to see outpatients at this time of the day," came the counter riposte, pride and puzzlement colouring the throwaway comment. "I don't think she's even on call tonight."

"Some people are more dedicated to their job than others."

"Bee's certainly that," he smiled to himself, finally addressing his next comment to Jaime. "I can't remember seeing you around much, how long have you been coming here?"

"I've been seeing Dr. Tarth for almost a year now. We were paired up as soon as she graduated," Jaime explained evenly, wondering what kind of soldier survived a tour in Essos without being able to rely on their powers of observation. "I was her first," he returned the smile slowly, making sure to show his teeth. "Patient, that is."

The man shockingly brightened at that. "So you know about her research then."

"We've had other things to talk about." Jaime let the insinuation lie heavy on the air, doubting the lieutenant would have picked up on a more subtle approach, ignoring his steadily screaming phone even if it meant his ride home would have disappeared by the time he made it downstairs. "Please, enlighten me"

"The terminology might be too much, but if you ever wanted to take a look at the journals, you'd see it's ground-breaking, especially for such a young doctor. Bee's going to have her choice of jobs as soon as it's published."

"Is that so?" Jaime raised an eyebrow, musing over the lack of information being presented to him. "You know, my family are always looking for new opportunities to invest in, and _ground-breaking_ medical research would be an unexpected step."

"Your family?"

"I didn't introduce myself, did I?" Jaime near laughed, feeling his phone fall silent as his brother's driver had clearly given up on waiting. "Colonel Jaime Lannister."

"You're Jaime?" he asked, a spark of recognition catching Jaime's ears as a hand was extended. "I'm Hyle. Hyle Hunt."

_So this was the boy who thought himself good enough for his wench_. "It's so nice to finally meet you," Jaime replied, dipping back into false society pleasantries he thought he'd outgrown with the military. Tyrion was always so much better at these things. "Brienne's been nothing but complimentary." He paused, waiting for Hyle to finish fumbling with the handshake, crossing right to left, before asking the most pertinent question he could think of after seeing how eager Hyle was to make a good impression now he knew who his audience was. "And you're involved with her research, how?"

"I'm not. Not yet anyway."

"Oh."

Hyle looked indifferent to the notes of concern that were effortlessly slipping into Jaime's leading responses. "I've never worked with children before, not the way Bee is doing with the planned rehabilitation programmes. But Dr. Tarly, one of her mentors at Storm's End, thought I'd be a good fit for the fellowship here. And once we get to know each other a little better," he smiled and Jaime's stomach dropped, hoping that the first person to turn Brienne's head in months wasn't pursuing her for an ulterior motive. "I'm hoping she'll see that too. There's the veterans' ball next month that I was planning on taking her to and..."

"She usually goes with her dad. _General_ Selwyn Tarth."

"I didn't know Bee came from a military family,” he replied with some curiosity as Jaime wondered if Hyle had ever listened to what Brienne was saying in between failing at dinner and finding enough confidence to share the research that would sooner or later take her away for good, if Jaime wasn’t careful. “Is the General not occupied with more important matters than to accompany his daughter to the ball?”

Jaime felt his hackles rise. While his current relationship with his own father was strained to say the least, the same couldn’t be said for Brienne. He’d been in her office enough times to have noticed the collage of photographs decorating the noticeboard behind her desk, dozens of pictures telling a story of an awkward teenage girl, all eyes and limbs and freckles with a mouth full of metal, who, instead of friends, had hockey and horses and a father who loved her. Jaime hadn’t accepted the personally addressed invite for longer than he could remember, the veterans’ ball an embarrassment of riches, but she’d gone, more often than not, for the last ten years, if he was dating the pictures correctly. She’d likely stutter and stumble over her feet, the ill-fitting dress that skirted the edges of fashion worthy of more than a couple of jokes, but Jaime would have given anything to see her blush when he asked her to dance, feel the way she’d stiffen and relax in his arms, together if only for a few minutes. “More important than family?”

"There's still a war on."

"There's always going to be a war on somewhere." The boy was too keen, too thirsty to make connections and get ahead; research, money, military, it didn't matter, it was all the same to someone who couldn't settle and enjoy the moment. Jaime recognised the brashness of youth, the recklessness that he'd fallen foul of himself too many times to count, but his own childish misdemeanours had always had something else guiding him on. Or someone else. "Knowing that is exactly the reason why we shouldn't give up on the ones we love."

"I don't..."

_No_ , Jaime thought, _you really don't. She deserves better than either of us_. "It was nice to finally meet you, Dr. Hunt." His phone started up again as Hyle closed his mouth, this time feeling like it was trying to jump out of his hand. Plucking it from his pocket, he could hear Tyrion's tinny voice complaining from the other end. "If you do ever find a research project worthy of our time, my brother has office hours every other Thursday afternoon." Jaime didn't leave time for a reply as he brought the phone to his ear and strode towards the elevator. "What?"


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tyrion meddles and the Lannister's play host to a very special dinner guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all so much for reading, kudosing and commenting! It means so much to me that you are enjoying this as much as I have writing it, despite the ups and downs writers block sometimes throws into the mix!
> 
> Another huge 'thank you' needs to be said to my amazing friend, RoseHeart. This chapter has been written for a good two weeks now, and then yesterday it wasn't anymore. RoseHeart proof read and sent it back to me in hours so that I could post it today, she's that brilliant. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy chapter four! :)

Tyrion and his driver, Bronn, were smoking in the reception vestibule, leaning against the low wall that surrounded the hospital complex, when Jaime found them, a good five or six minutes after he'd left Hyle open mouthed in the corridor. The elevator had stubbornly refused to move any faster than a snail and getting caught, yet again, by a smiling Pia, who'd been packing up the reception for the evening, hadn't helped his exit strategy.

"You do realise that in a medical facility they generally frown on smoking," he snarked down at his brother, sounding just enough like Brienne for a smile to lift the corners of his lips. Tyrion merely sent him a sharp edged look, one that told Jaime exactly where he could get off, before the pair broke into laughter. "I thought you had a conference call this afternoon."

"Father insulted everyone in record time so we finished early." He took another drag off the cigarette as Bronn dropped what was left of his and headed back towards the car. "I've just spoken to your girl. _Brienne_."

Tyrion rolled her name around his mouth like it tasted delicious and Jaime snapped, beginning to make his way across the neatly cultivated mock garden paths. "She's not my girl, she's my doctor."

"Same difference in this case, I suspect," he smiled. "You know, she doesn't sound so tall on the phone, but that might be part of the charm. 'Delicate' has never been your type."

"Don't start."

"Would I ever?" Jaime could practically hear Tyrion's smile widen even as he lengthened his strides in order to put some distance between him and whatever perceived words of wisdom were going to assault his ears. "She mentioned she needed some air, it was perfectly innocent. Though she was breathing hard enough to have sprinted down several flights of stairs in a single breath. I wonder what you said to her, brother, to get her so flustered? Could it be that you finally stopped pissing around and-?"

"Did you not hear what I said?"

"Just pointing out a fact." His brother paused, holding up his hands in surrender as Jaime turned to shake his head and strode away again to easily leave the smaller man behind. "She loves you, too," he called out, following it up in the same breath with something that made Jaime stop dead in his tracks. "I asked her to dinner at the house at the weekend."

"And why would you do that?"

"Funny you should ask. Other than the fact that your doctor lit up like a Winterfest tree at the very mention of your name, I thought she might be able to help Cella with her nursing school applications." Jaime stared pointedly as Tyrion continued to explain away the invitation that was against every rule the pair of them had been playing with in the gym. "After dinner, you two can talk, I can take the kids to the movies, if things go well, and you can..."

Jaime scowled. "I am capable of getting my own dates."

"Not so far you haven't. And besides, this isn't a date, right? She's your doctor and we're merely thanking her for keeping you upright and in one piece."

"Fine," Jaime sighed, gritting his teeth to stop rolling his eyes to the heavens. "If it'll shut you up, then fine."

"You know I can't promise you that."

Jaime ignored him. "Do we have to cook or will you be using Walda Bolton's services again? I'm not sure how Brienne feels about that much cake but Walda knows her way around our kitchen better than we do."

"I'll leave that choice up to you."

If it had been truly Jaime's choice, he would have taken her to his favourite pub, The Crow's Nest, just outside of the city, ordered beer and burgers and ended the night in the back of a cab, happy, tipsy, and in each other's arms. He would need to change the professional aspect of their relationship before any of that could happen, though he was coming around more and more to the idea of giving up their time together at the hospital, if it meant they'd both get more out of it. "Nothing fancy, just keep it simple. Something like...family."

"We can do that." Tyrion nodded his approval, muttering something that sounded distinctly like he hoped they were 'grateful enough to name their first born after him' as Jaime followed him dumbstruck into the car.

***********************************************

Brienne arrived at five to seven the following Saturday, dressed down, at Jaime's repeated insistence, in a navy plaid shirt and skinny jeans that only emphasised how her long legs could drive him to distraction, though not nearly as much as her eyes, which were widening in an effort to take in the grandeur of the Lannister town house and gardens. She shuffled on the front step as he stared and wondered how many home visits she did, looking so tall and strong and delicious, only noticing that Brienne was clutching a bottle of good Dornish red after Tyrion had given him a less than subtle jab with his shoulder.

"My dad taught me to never show up empty handed," she shrugged in explanation as he ushered her into the hallway, passing the wine to an eagerly eavesdropping Tyrion. "I hope that's okay. I didn't know...you wouldn't tell me what we'd be eating so I-I hope that's okay."

"Brienne," Tyrion interjected with a smile that was brimming with the possibility of trouble. Jaime shot him a quizzical look, trying to avoid Brienne's sweeping gaze, but it seemed she remained oblivious to the silent conversation the siblings were having around her. "You are welcome here any time. Any time at all. Especially if you keep bringing wine. Though I think next time Jaime might like it if he gave you his-"

Jaime cleared his throat. Loudly. "Don't you need to be checking what's happening in the kitchen?"

"I'm sure..." Jaime raised an eyebrow and his brother barely contained the laughter that almost audibly twinkled in the lines around his eyes. "Yes, there's that...thing with the chicken, and Walda might like help putting all those deserts on the table. I think we were on number six the last time I looked. We're not going to be able to eat everything if she keeps going."

"You have a _chef_?" Brienne stage whispered as Tyrion disappeared into the back with an over exaggerated wink that Jaime hoped he could glare out of existence.

"We have a housekeeper who cooks."

"You have a _housekeeper_?"

"How else did you think we kept two teenagers fed and out of trouble for so long?" he laughed, running his fingers through his hair as Brienne visibly relaxed and smiled back at him. "Walda's our secret weapon."

"It does smell really good in here," she agreed, sounding almost relieved that, despite Jaime's multiple promises throughout their session two days earlier that nobody was expecting her to be anyone but herself.

He'd felt almost guilty that morning for playing up the pain in his arm before then, since, cursed by whichever of the Seven ruled over fairness and doctors, he had woken up in genuine agony following a night in which he had been haunted by memories and fantasies alike. It became a call back to their earliest days, Brienne patient yet stubborn, gentle yet determined, professional yet tender and he found himself aching for her all over even as she helped him work out each and every painful knot. At least Jaime had managed to walk out of the hospital with his head held high, directing the cab driver to Tyrion's office, much to his brother's surprise, where the rest of the day had been spent on the phone to the many interested parties in Brienne's research.

As Brienne spoke now, her eyes strayed to his collar and the inch or so of skin that lay exposed, and Jaime realised that she had never seen him dressed in anything other than gym gear or fatigues, though she'd seen him undressed dozens of times. The beginnings of a blush brightened her skin as she continued to study the unfamiliarly crisp blue shirt, sparkling through prettier peach and pink to find an angry scarlet hue that attempted to join her freckles together like a string of fairy lights.

"I...I mean, I wasn't sure if you-you'd be ready yet...with the food and..." Pausing to take a breath, Brienne appeared to be grappling to find safer ground that would stop her stumbling towards an explanation. Jaime really didn't mind having her look at him like he had just stepped in front of the sunrise, though, watching as she bounced between babbling and speechlessness. "I'm sorry I'm so early."

"If you'd been here another fifteen minutes early, you would have interrupted my shower," he smiled but whatever joke he had been attempting fell flat as her cheeks flushed deeper and he couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever thought of him in the same way he sometimes thought about her as he stood under the stream of water. "You could have helped me dress," he continued, watching her open her mouth to protest, only to close it again. "Just for old time's sake."

"You s-seem to have done okay on your own," Brienne mumbled, checking each of the doors coming off the hallway as if working out all her possible exit routes. "You look..."

"Different?" he offered.

"Better."

"Then it's amazing what a shower and a clean shirt can do, wench."

The day before he'd discovered there were rules, as he'd expected, about project staff dating but nothing that would send Hunt back to where he came from, considering he and Brienne were both the same grade. Jaime had also read as much as he could about what she was working with. On paper, it was vaguely idealistic but, it was good and right and made him smile, slipping into the idea of revisiting a place to where he'd lost one life and started another, guiding her team around the war torn towns during the day and warming her bed at night. If she'd have him. If she wasn't his doctor.

"That's not it," she pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow, studying him so intently that Jaime could almost feel his skin prickling as if he was being bathed in warm, blue light. "And my name is Brienne, as well you know. When people are at the hospital too long they...they get this look. Like they've accepted they belong there." Brienne dropped her gaze to the floor as she smiled softly to herself, finding interest in the evenly sanded boards. "You don't have that anymore. It's nice to see you...I mean, for your recovery, it's good to see you doing well."

"Brienne..."

"I've spent all w-week thinking about you...your _injuries_ and I think I know what we should try next."

"Brienne..." he murmured for a second time, her shuffling step forward tying a knot in his stomach that only worsened as she seemed to throw all caution to the wind to meet his slow lean in half way.

"Uncle Jaime!"

Myrcella stood in the doorway of the larger family room, arms casually crossed over her stomach and a familiar, though kind, mischievous grin just starting to spread across her face. At seventeen she still had enough of the sweet naïveté that kept her from following in her late mother's problematic footsteps but neither was she a fool, and Jaime doubted his niece couldn't work out exactly what she had almost interrupted. Even if Tyrion hadn't already let her in on whatever plan he'd been concocting for the last few days.

"You were the one who told us that it's rude to have a friend over and not to introduce them to the rest of us," she continued, pushing herself up off the wall just as Tommen surfaced from whatever game he had been playing on the big screen. "Especially if that friend was asked if she wouldn't mind spending some time helping me with my college applications."

"I made that rule so you didn't think it was okay to bring boys over without letting me or your Uncle Tyrion know."

"But you've brought a girl home," she pointed out, uncaring that they were having this conversation in front of a guest. "You've never done that before."

He heard Brienne's sharp intake of breath, wanting to explain to her that although they could all joke about the amount of attention his good looks attracted, he'd barely had more than a handful of dates in the past decade, never mind the lack of desire to sleep with each and every pretty thing that practically had thrown themselves in his lap. Fraternising had been strictly against the rules back in his regiment, and it wasn't in his nature to pick up a new bedmate in every town, so it had fallen on his father or brother to gleefully set him up with a parade of blandly suitable potential wives or pretty but dull co-eds, models, and aspiring actresses in between deployments. And Jaime knew now, if he could have, he would have chosen Brienne over them all.

"That's not the point," he replied patiently, ignoring the growing amusement on the faces of the watching teenagers as he rose onto his toes to purr gently in Brienne's ear. "Can I talk to you later?"

Jaime hoped it wasn't just his imagination playing tricks as she nodded jerkily, causing his nose to bump over her skin and he felt her shiver at the brief contact.

"You must be Myrcella," Brienne guessed as she clumsily shuffled away from Jaime, ducking her head in an attempt not to catch his searching eyes, her face flushed like a beacon bright enough to guide sailors safely into shore. "I brought a couple of books you might find useful. My friend went to one of the northern nursing schools but the best one is here in the capital, so you could stay at home if you wanted."

"With these three?"

Brienne finally glanced back at Jaime, offering a slight smile, which he returned enthusiastically. Myrcella appeared to be attempting to swallow a giggle and he schooled his face into a mask of neutrality. "Surely they have their charms."

"You mustn't have a brother."

"Cella," Jaime protectively growled a warning. "I think..."

"It's okay," Brienne soothed, turning back to the girl. "It's okay. I did have a brother. He died when I was ten." Myrcella rushed to blurt out an apology but she was neatly cut off. "It was nearly twenty years ago now. It's okay," she paused, changing tactics. "Though I think the first thing we need to do is look at your bedside manner. I know from working with your uncle that tact isn't a trait that is appreciated by your family." Brienne shot Jaime another look over her shoulder, one that he would have called seductive if he hadn't known better, her fair eyelashes fluttering almost hypnotically slow. "But it can be worked on. My friend, Sansa, had trouble with it during her first year of training and she's now on a maternity ward. It just needs time. Is there somewhere we can sit until dinner?"

"You can come in here if you don't mind chatting over Mario Kart."

Jaime followed Brienne into the front room, stealing a controller off Tommen a second after she'd impressed the young man with a request for a game after dinner, ending up watching her more than he did the screen. She kept turning her head to find him transfixed, the tell tale signs of reappearing embarrassment painting her speckled skin spectacularly as he forfeited yet another round and she guided Myrcella to the next chapter in the book in her lap, their attentions waxing and waning as the minutes ticked by until Tyrion arrived to announce dinner was served.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Lannister family dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this is a day late again, and sorry again for anyone who read on JBO yesterday that I was maybe ready to post. I haven't been too well this week and my writing is slowing down again because of it. 
> 
> I don't think there's a big enough THANK YOU I can send to RoseHeart for her help with this chapter. She will claim otherwise, I'm sure, but, to me, she saved this and helped bring me back from a very anxious, doubting place as a writer. She is an absolute superstar and an amazing friend!
> 
> And thank you again to everyone who's still reading! I hope you enjoy the Lannister family dinner :)

Myrcella continued to chatter as they all relocated into the dining room, the sight of the near straining table causing Brienne to pause in the doorway with Jaime hovering at her right hand side. He didn't hesitate before reaching up to tug on her slightly too short sleeve, bringing her back from wherever her mind was wandering to that stopped Brienne from crossing an inviting threshold.

"Walda always makes enough to feed an army," he joked, getting a half-hearted friendly quirk of her lips in response. Though as Jaime dropped his hand, confident he'd caught her attention again, the accidentally deliberate motion brushed along her skin and their fingers momentarily curled around each other. Nearly pressed together from shoulder to hip as she gasped out an apology, Jaime could hear the clear quickening of her breath, feel the air thicken and he had to swallow hard to prevent the threatening shiver from rising up his spine. "We'll...we'll probably be eating chicken for the next few days. I could even bring some for lunch after our next appointment, just in case you'd forgotten that my offer still stands."

"You don't need to do that," she reiterated, whisper quiet as the kids took their seats and started filling water glasses. "Things...change, sometimes. My schedule isn't as set in stone as you'd think."

Jaime chose to ignore her moment of strange melancholy, hoping that whatever had brought it on wasn't related to future plans with Hunt. "Honestly, you'd be doing us a favour. Our fridge might explode otherwise."

She unsuccessfully turned a bark of laughter into a cough. "How many times have you told me you don't want or need my pity?"

"It's not pity now that we're friends. We're supposed to look out for each other."

"Jaime," she sighed, his name on her tongue sounding too familiar and not quite intimate enough. "It's just...it's been me and my dad for so long I'd forgotten what a family celebration looks like." There was another half smile flirting across her face and he was tempted to pull Brienne into his arms there and then, ask her if she wanted to stay indefinitely and have someone to come home to night after night, someone to eat with and bicker with and fall into bed with after the shadows stretched into what little light remained. Though it was lurking just out of reach, for now, there was a life he they could share that wouldn't require him to make excuses to see her at the gym. "I'd hate to see what Winterfest looks like in here."

"Take out and bad movies," he volleyed back without thinking. "Walda takes the week off since we're expected to visit our father, but that never works out. He doesn't approve of any of this."

"What's there not to approve of?" she queried, knotting her brows together while glancing between him and the occupied seats at the table. "You're all doing alright, aren't you? And they're doing better than a lot of kids in their situation. They really look up to the two of you."

"You say that now," he deflected with a shrug. "But you should stop in on any other Saturday night if you want the truth."

"Jaime," she took another audible breath, seeming to steady herself. "I'll...think about it. I don’t normally do home visits.” The poor joke dissipated between them as neither could dredge up the emotions needed to smile at it. “Should we sit before all this food gets cold?"

As he took up his usual place between Tommen and Myrcella, directly opposite the guest of honour so that Brienne's feet brushed his shins as she stretched and almost immediately retreated, Jaime had to admit that Walda had pulled out all the stops despite the instructions for simplicity that Tyrion had clearly ignored. A steaming, traditionally stuffed roast chicken sat in the middle, piles of baked potatoes laying like supplicants on three sides with a mountain of dressed salad on the fourth. A dozen dishes decorated what little space remained in a rainbow of delicious colour, the rising aromas setting his mouth to water, Tommen promptly passing a bowl of beets around the table before Jaime could decide where to start.

"She knows I don't like them," he grumbled as Jaime nodded, hoping to be in the neighbourhood of sympathetic, silently swapping the almost unnaturally purple accompaniment with a dish of honey mustard glazed carrots Brienne had just finished with. He caught her eye as Myrcella speared a bite sized tomato with all the grace of one of the Dornish Sand Snakes in her favourite TV show, the teenager grinning victoriously across the table.

"As you can see," Tyrion narrated, cutting through whatever awkwardness still existed in the air. "You shouldn't let their angelic faces fool you, Brienne. When it comes to food, it's every Lannister for themselves."

"It's a good thing nobody's going to starve then," Brienne replied in an equally teasing tone, reaching over to transfer a potato to her plate and another to Tommen's as he held out his in a silent request.

"Our dinners aren't always like this, Uncle Tyrion," Tommen gently chided as he lifted his head to thank her, seeming shy for a second before deciding to beam up at Brienne. "Me and Cella usually set the table or stack the dishwasher, and Uncle Jaime...he helps Mrs. Bolton. Mainly with the grocery shopping but sometimes at dinner time, too."

Brienne opened her mouth in surprise, her fork slipping from between her fingers to send up a painful clattering ring of metal on china, instantly lowering her voice as if that alone would stop the eager eavesdroppers from overhearing. "I thought your kitchen only existed so you could make coffee."

"Don't get any ideas," Jaime replied, grateful that the children at least were becoming more occupied with eating then the conversation he was having with Brienne. "I don't spend any more time in there than I have to. But I do run."

"You do what?"

"I run. To the market. Twice a week with a pack on my back for the food. Cardio and weight training all in one."

She laughed weakly, staring at mismatched cupboard doors just visible over his shoulder, Tyrion having given Walda free rein on the pastel colour scheme. "That's so...military."

"Old habits," he shrugged, verging on uneasy irritation that he felt almost as uncomfortable as she suddenly looked. "And since I can't train with you every day anymore..."

"Have you lived here long?" she blurted out before he could finish, Jaime mock yawning while watching her carefully as she narrowed her eyes, still looking like she was in desperate need of something, anything, useful to do. "What?"

"I think he's trying to tell you to find a more interesting topic," Myrcella interjected in between mouthfuls. "Uncle Jaime keeps saying that you're-"

"He-He talks...about me?" Brienne stuttered, her attention drawn away from both her neatly arranged plate and the death glare Jaime had aimed at his niece, his attempt to kick his smirking brother under the table only succeeding in knocking a sneaker clad ankle. She briefly batted his foot away before forcefully pulling back as if it had taken Brienne a few moments to realise what game she was starting to play with him.

"Sure," Cella drawled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that neither Jaime nor Brienne were eating while she talked. "But only when he doesn't think we're really listening. It's nice though, isn't it? To have a friend want to tell others how great they think you are."

"I-I hadn't...thought of it li-like that before," she forced herself to take a bite of chicken and stuffing as if it could give her time to formulate her next response, Jaime noticing for the first time that his family were suspiciously quiet for a weekend evening. Myrcella would usually regale them with yet another tale from the accident prone cheerleading squad she'd been co-leading all year or Tommen would want to talk about volunteering at the local animal shelter or his new English teacher and they'd all have thoughts on the couple of shows they watched as a family week after week, talking over each other, two conversations at a time. But tonight there was nothing. And though it took no time at all for her to look around at the four silent blonds and nervously swallow as if they were waiting for her reaction with baited breath, Brienne's disjointed explanations became lost in her deep exhale, a pleasantly surprised moan wrapping around the escaping air.

" _Oh_ ," she gasped, causing Jaime to shuffle in his seat at the sudden flash of arousal that trickled down his torso to find a solid home between his legs. "Oh, _gods_ ," she repeated, practically inhaling the next forkful of food, her eyes closing as she savoured the taste and Jaime's mind took a stroll down a far from comfortable path, having never seen her act or sound like this in the hospital. "This is amazing. Beyond amazing. Where on earth did you find your housekeeper?"

"Just wait for desert," Tyrion promised with a wicked grin. "That's where Walda really has talent."

"It's a wonder you're so fit," she murmured, blushing as Jaime held her gaze while she tried to snatch a glance at him, still looking like she was working through Myrcella's earlier comments as he bit into his lower lip and studied her in return. "I mean...strong. Healthy. With so much sugar on offer."

"Some of us have never been good with avoiding temptation," Tyrion admitted honestly, avoiding the raised eyebrows of his brother as Brienne turned a colour so vibrantly scarlet she could have blended right into the Lannister family crest. "But we have a gym to work off...any moments of weakness."

"Chocolate cake," Jaime and Myrcella said in unison, exchanging a quick cutlery based high five that produced an uncharacteristic snorting giggle from Brienne, though she promptly ducked her head to focus on her food before Jaime could catch her eye again. However, it was all in vein as she continued to avoid looking directly at him for the rest of the meal, slowly shedding the shyness that had plagued her on the doorstep. Swallowing her mumbles and moans of enjoyment, Brienne became happy enough to join in the colliding conversations across and around the table while helping herself to a little more of each dish without their responses being of any concern.

Even as Jaime traded increasingly heated remarks with her about the state of the Kings Landing Gunners and their new manager, all sharp edges and soft undertones, Brienne deftly evaded his searching gaze, finding more interest in his nose, forehead or throat. And despite their unravelling discussions, she didn't offer up a single syllable of protest when he refilled her water glass, the gesture coming mere moments after Brienne had made sure to surreptitiously carve too much of the still warm chicken, the leftover pieces the perfect size for a man favouring his underused left hand. Four, five months ago, they both would have baulked at such spontaneously caring acts, now, Jaime allowed an illicit thought to come to the forefront of his mind before he could push away the satisfying sensation that he'd only felt once in his life, back before he had given his heart to the army. He could hear Myrcella and Brienne chatting about a book he'd never heard of as he choked and spluttered, battling for breath as much as he fought against the deep blue waves of emotion that threatened to drown everything in their wake.

"Can you not die quietly?" Tyrion joked as soon as Jaime regained enough composure to sip from his glass, cooling his burning throat. "Some of us are trying to enjoy our dinner."

"I'm so sorry my imminent death is such an inconvenience," Jaime rasped in return, deciding to forgo what was left of the feast in front of him. "You must have forgotten that I'm one of the few allies you have here, little brother."

"Not at all, big brother. Should worst come to worst, I was counting on your doctor friend to know CPR," he chuckled under his breath. "Though the shock of that might have also proven fatal if we're taking into account all the eye fucking that's been going on. And, let's face it, why wouldn't we?"

"I think you may need your eyes testing. They have a family rate at the hospital, I can book you in the next time I'm there."

"Very funny. I wouldn't have extended an invite had I not been able to _see_ exactly what's been going on between you two," Tyrion smirked from behind his wine glass. "And now that Brienne is here, I can _see_ there's not a single person around this table who isn't enjoying her company. Most of all you. Though I'm betting Father would hate her, especially as she's trying to clear up after us."

True to Tyrion's word, when Jaime turned to run his wandering gaze from her cheeks to her chest again, he discovered Brienne had been stacking any empty plates and bowls in a pile at the end of the table, not expecting anything in return apart from giving them all more space to eat and talk. Jaime couldn't help but want to call her out on another unselfishly good deed, meeting her questioning glower with a dazzling smile that seemed to unnerve her for the slightest of moments, though his train of thought trailed off completely as the phone in his pocket vibrated. The words on the small screen blurred as he absorbed them, black and white turning into a scarlet fury, his fingers gripping the plastic tight enough to hear a whine of warning.

The next thing he heard was Brienne clearing her throat somewhere above his head, peering up through his eyelashes to find her broad shoulders and hips casting him in shadows, one hand balancing the pile of neatly stacked plates like a pro as she reached across the table. "Did you want something?" Jaime snapped, confused and frustrated and having difficulty reining himself back in.

"I asked if you were done."

“No, but apparently _you_ are,” he hissed, bring the phone up to her startled face, the blueish white light casting her in an icy glow, making her appear more monstrous than Jaime would have thought possible. "Care to explain why I just got an email from my _new doctor_?”

The tension he'd all but forgotten about tightened while they stared at each other, a low, threatening hum building in his ears as Brienne opened her mouth only to shut it again with a click, standing straighter to tower over him, thin lips set in a hard line. Her silence succeeded in enraging Jaime more, giving him time to answer his own circling questions. And he did not like what he was conjuring up.

“Answer me, _wench_. Did Hunt demand this? Was your _boyfriend_ intimidated by me, threatened maybe?"

Finally, she reacted, jerking as if hit, the plates in her handle rattling as she tried to compose herself. "Thank you for dinner," she whispered, addressing no one in particular, Jaime's heart jumping into his throat as she stalked towards the kitchen.

"If you want her to ever come back here again," Tyrion suggested the second Brienne had left earshot. "Go and talk to her." He took another sip. "And try not to fuck it up this time."

And so, after picking up the plate Brienne had purposely left in front of him, Jaime did.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candy coloured arguments and apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is later than I would have liked, but today is a better day health wise so I didn't want to waste it by not posting.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this, whether you've been commenting, leaving kudosing or have just been silently enjoying. Your support means everything.
> 
> A huge THANK YOU, as always, to my wonderful friend and beta RoseHeart, she's had to pick me up too many times to count during the writing of this and always manages to bring me back from any anxiety over not being good enough. Also, almostabeauty has been incredible these last few days in keeping me smiling when I've wanted nothing nothing more than to wallow. And thank you to Mikki for her last minute pep talk!
> 
> Just one more chapter after this one!

The kitchen in the Lannister town house was no more than a dozen steps from the dining room, but, to Jaime, it felt like miles. His mind raced to find new scenarios that would hurt less than the ones he'd considered at the table, all the while his heart pounding to fill his veins with a white hot rage that was firmly fixated on how Brienne would let such an opportunistic piece of shit derail the minuscule amount of time they had together each week. He doubted it would make him feel any better, but Jaime wondered if Brienne had been persuaded from seeing any male patients at all or if it was just him that Hunt saw as competition, the less than observant soldier having finally sweet talked the wench into giving up what she once told him was 'one of the best parts' of her job. _Fucking power hungry insecure lieutenants._

She was stood in front of the sink when he passed from the mess of family life into Walda's sugar coated world, the housekeeper only notable for her absence as Brienne silently rinsed plates before transferring them into the often temperamental dishwasher, so tense that Jaime could practically see her fighting the urge to run in each of the twitching muscles wrapped in denim and plaid.

"What in the name of the Seven do you think you're doing?" he demanded before her perfectly toned arse and deliciously long legs could pull him down further into a pit of sparking arousal, shattering their suffocating anxiety in the process. "Are you so fucking gullible that you would let that jackass you're dating spoil things between you and your patients?" Jaime took a much needed breath, aiming his next blow where he thought it would hurt the most. "You promised me this wouldn't happen."

She didn't turn around, adding to his annoyance, her reply slipping beneath the sound of running water. "And it's not. I just...I just have to take a step back from certain things for a while."

"Coward," Jaime spat, gratified that she froze at the word echoing around the room, another reminder of what had already passed between them, Brienne spinning on her heel to face him with a face like thunder. "What exactly are you trying to hide, _wench_? Or did you forget I can see right through your lies?"

"I was going to tell you but I didn't want to spoil what was supposed to be an enjoyable evening," Brienne spat back in a strangely argumentative apology. Her eyes were wide and full of reservations, though, as he started to stalk over to where she was standing, leaving the remaining dishes behind to push his advance into a retreat. "Since you can't seem to _wait_ until a more appropriate time, I've asked Dr. Penrose to take over with you from next week. He's been doing this a lot longer than-“

Jaime swallowed down as much of his rage as he could before changing tactics, pouncing in the hopes that he was landing near to her closely guarded heart. "So this little act is because you're not as oblivious as you look, is it? You've got to have more of an idea than Hunt, at the very least."

"Oblivious to what?"

"To us."

"I-I don't know what...you're t-talking about," she stuttered, her earlier confidence seeming to disappear at the thought of their unlikely friendship becoming something more intimate. "But some doctors...occasionally have reported that p-patients can..." Brienne paused, swallowing as if disbelieving that Jaime could have ever looked at her like she had been special. "Form bonds that are..."

Jaime ground his teeth as she fought to finish the sentence, thinking back to all the times she had chastised him for not playing by firmly set out rules. "Inappropriate?" he barked. "Unprofessional?” Having surprised even himself with the spark of venom in the words, he waited until Brienne had slowly wet her lips with her tongue until he continued on, letting her momentarily mesmerise him as she delicately pressed them together out of nervous habit again and again. "Desperately wanted?"

"Jaime," she sighed again, the hint of exasperation running through the stretched out syllables becoming a ringing note of despair. And in that breath, he forgot about his gnawing anger and wanted nothing more than to drown in her eyes as his name fell from her lips, taste her skin as she was rendered speechless and shivering, fall asleep in her arms and wake to her voice in his ears. If only Hunt wasn't both metaphorically and physically standing in the way. "They say it's...it’s only natural when p-people in our situations spend a lot of time together that...comfort and support can become romanticised."

"And that's why you've been flirting with me all night?"

"Excuse me?"

"Flirting. With me. Tonight."

"I have not!"

"Have so," he taunted. "Trust me when I tell you again, you're too honest and noble to lie well." As she began to splutter out another half-hearted denial, he slid forward two steps and cut her off with ease. "If you knew the other half of my family, you would realise how appreciated that is."

Jaime's voice was dropping without his consent, unintentionally starting to mimic the motions she had been repeating with her teeth, tongue, and lips, her face the colour of ripe strawberries. "I don't care what your books and your research say, Brienne. All this trust and respect has never been a one way thing between you and me. I..."

"Of course I respect you, after all we've been through why wouldn't I?" Brienne finally managed to interrupt, sounding like every word was a battle to find sense. "You haven't made any of this easy but...but just because I now lov-care about you..." She realised her slip a little too late, taking a sharp breath as he lost his and then her long legs were carrying her safely behind the kitchen island before he could close the distance between them any further. "Gods above, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"Why? I'm not."

"Maybe it was a bad idea coming here tonight. I'm not supposed to want...I have... _used_ to have a boyfriend. I think."

Jaime's stomach turned over, as if the wood panelling beneath his feet had suddenly disappeared and he was now riding the currents of a stormy sea. And as he inevitably remembered how eager Hunt had been to make a good impression, the little he had sampled at dinner rolled from a bad idea into a worse one. If that ambition had caused harm to Brienne in any way, even unintentionally, Jaime wanted to make him pay for it. "What did he do?" he growled, spinning to face her over the previously ignored platter of cakes, cookies and baked goods. The need to protect, in spite of knowing how well Brienne could take care of herself, making him pace like a caged beast alongside the candy coloured counter top.

"Nothing," she retorted sharply, almost bouncing on the spot as she crossed her arms, her fingers continuing to twitch and fidget while he stalked back and forth, their restless energy bubbling over. "We've only been out a few times. He...he found out my dad is going to be out of town next month and asked me to the veteran’s ball."

"Is that it? You should have said yes. You could have spent all night watching Hunt talk himself up to find extra funders for your research."

"I tend to have a problem with people who can't take 'no' for an answer." Brienne narrowed her eyes, no doubt wondering how deep he had looked into her future plans, and Hunt's involvement, but she didn't follow the thought through. "Have you ever been to one of those things?"

"Once," Jaime grumbled in acknowledgement, feeling himself calm. "A very long time ago."

"And do you think I enjoy having to dress up and see how those people judge me? I go to talk to my dad's friends, my godfather, that’s it. Socially, I'm not..."

"You've been charming everyone tonight."

"That's different and you know it."

"It's not and you can't fool me into thinking otherwise." Jaime could have simply asked her why she was still having trouble holding his eye but his heart pushed him down another path. "Brienne," he purred, surprising her with how quickly he moved around the island, lithe and graceful with little sign of the sporadic pain he'd been experiencing on earlier in the week. The shock kept her stationary for a moment, their hands barely brushing as he caught the glare from increasingly misty eyes and she danced away from him to check the loaded dishwasher. "Forgive me. Please. Just explain why I've been given to another therapist and we can leave the rest of this here."

"I'm not sure what the 'rest of this' is, Jaime."

"Me neither," he admitted evenly. "Tell me."

"Take your pick. I'm not good enough. I'm holding you back. I don't have the experience." Brienne sounded resigned but defiant, glaring down at him as she shook away the slight wobble of her chin. "We...you can't continue on like this for much longer, you need a different opinion. A fresh pair of eyes and new hands."

"Whatever you've been told, I want yours. I want _you_."

She continued on like she hadn't heard him, rinsing and stacking the remaining plates. "By next month you'll probably have forgotten I even exist. And that's okay."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jaime cursed, a black and white patterned side dish slipping through her fingers as her head snapped up, Brienne's attention finally focused. "How can you not see yourself? I was never going to forget you in a hurry. And now you're in my dreams, every fucking night since that shower..."

She took a tentative step towards him, but he stood his ground, unable to stop now the feelings that had been haunting him for months were flowing out, fully realised and accepted. "Jaime."

"Your kindness drives me crazy, you have no idea how good you are at what you do, and your eyes..."

Her sneakers squeaked as she advanced, two steps then three, apprehension and anxiety following in her wake. "Jaime."

"Your godsdamn eyes are astonishing."

"Jaime," she repeated for a third time, her voice barely audible, but he could hear the wavering break that cleaved his name in two. "Do you ever shut your mouth long enough for someone else to get a word in edgeways?"

He leaned back on the counter, resting his weight on an elbow and waved her into an imaginary spotlight, raising an eyebrow and licking his lips again but staying perfectly silent until she'd said her piece.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, her escaping words running together. "I can't stop thinking about you. I-"

Taking his life in his own hands, Jaime jumped to his feet and wrapped Brienne up in his arms, feeling a spark of shock run through her as he pulled her tight to his chest. She cuddled into him without thinking, her breathing rapid and shallow and laced with a strangled sob of relief.

Pressing a softly lingering kiss to her damp cheek, Jaime nuzzled into the arch of her throat as her fingers tenderly curled in the hair at the nape of his neck, the rising heat burning his lips as they brushed over an intriguingly swirling pattern sprawled over her shoulder.

"You," she choked out as she shuffled a half step back, breaking their spell too soon for Jaime's liking, leaving his lips tingling and throat dry. Though he barely had time to mourn the loss before Brienne was resting her forehead against his. "M-might be the most irritating person I've ever met. You're stubborn and-“

"Thank you."

Brienne hummed disapprovingly against his lips, Jaime matching her breath for shallow breath, staring into eyes that were as wide as saucers and darkened like a midnight sky, unshed tears drying around the edges. "Stubborn and arrogant and you want everyone to think the worst of you."

"And here I was thinking this conversation was going to go a different way. Like upstairs."

"Just let me finish! I was going to remind you that I've seen that medal of valour they gave you after your second tour," Brienne replied, Jaime beginning to feel like he was floating or drowning in one of his recurring dreams, praying that he still wasn't lying in bed and this whole night had been an elaborate fantasy. "And I was there when you wanted to die, when you shared your secrets, and you still looked like half a god. Tonight has just confirmed what I already knew, you're...you're a good man when it counts, you clearly adore the family you've got here, and you're...so far out of my league you're on a different planet."

"That's where you're wrong," Jaime smiled, sensing that this was the moment things between them could change for good. "I'm standing right in front of you and have wanted to do this for months."

They were so wrapped up in each other by that point that it took no effort at all for Jaime to lean forward and capture her mouth in a sweet, whisper soft kiss, tasting as the last of her trepidation melted away in a moan, her hands slowly starting to move over muscle and sinew and scar tissue, strong and tender.

He quickly lost track of time as his world narrowed to nothing more than a trading of touches, steadily relentless, learning what exactly it took to make her shyly determined rhythm falter and sigh his name, all lips and longing and laboured breath. Her mouth was the best thing Jaime had tasted all night, even better when paired with the feel of her small breasts pressed against his chest, the thin plaid doing little to disguise the exact effect of endorphins and arousal on Brienne's body.

Pausing to breathe, they crashed back together and their next kiss deepened almost immediately, her fingers tightening in his hair while his tongue danced alongside hers, rendering them both panting and speechless as if they had been denying themselves something for too long to keep holding back. Though he quickly lost the ability to care as Brienne allowed him to lift her onto a stretch of cleared counter, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, every one of his desirous attacks countered with an increasingly confident curl of her tongue or the feel of her fingers creeping further under his shirt, realising how hard he must feel pressing into her thigh.

He dragged his lips away from hers to paint a trail down her neck, leaving behind a few marks Brienne wouldn't be able to hide come Monday morning, feeling, rather than hearing, her gasps become throaty huffs, the vibration reverberating through him pleasantly. "I didn't think that would feel so good," she rasped, squirming as Jaime dipped lower, rubbing the stubble adorning his jaw and chin over the canvas of flaming freckles that welcomed him deeper into her lack of cleavage.

Nuzzling the slight softness he found, Jaime groaned into the lacy edging of her otherwise sensible bra as Brienne started tugging more passionately at his shirt, her fingers fumbling to flick open a few buttons to match the ones he'd already unfastened on hers. The moan that rose up his throat fell out of her own kiss swollen lips as she ran her palms over muscles that were twitching along his abs and chest, taking great care in the caresses and measured exploration, as if Jaime wasn't the only one who had yet to forget all the times she had touched him in the gym.

"Brienne," he panted at the warmth of the slivers of uncovered skin pressed against his, unexpected but not unwanted, feeling more and more sure that he'd have more than enough time later to touch and taste while she nearly succeeded in kissing him quiet. "You can stay. Here. Tonight. If you want."

Her immediate response was a hum of arousal piquing contentment, though Jaime couldn't be sure if she was answering the implied question or merely asking for more until Brienne broke away just long enough to cast her gaze to the floor, her voice just above a whisper. "Or you could come home with me."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses and key lime pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we come to the final chapter.
> 
> I'll be replying to comments shortly but I just wanted to thank everyone for their support here. It's really meant a lot to me.
> 
> All of this wouldn't have been possible without the amazing RoseHeart keeping me on track and making sure my anxieties were dealt with, she's just an amazing friend and beta. 
> 
> One final thing, this may have ventured into tooth rotting fluff. You have been warned :)

"Home?"

"I mean, it's not much, my place, not like this, but it's...c-cosy and I-I..." Brienne smiled shyly and he stopped her from floundering further with a gentle brush of their lips. "I don't do this," she admitted with a shake of her head, still threading her fingers through his hair so languidly that Jaime gave into the urge to rock onto his toes and rest his chin on her broad shoulder, his continuing intermittent kisses taking on an encouraging quality. "Though it's not like I've had many opportunities."

"What about Hyle?" Jaime asked, steeling himself for the reply. Another pang of jealousy arrived with the name, despite the wealth of evidence proving he had no reason to feel that way.

"Didn't make it past the doorstep." She squeaked as Jaime started to suckle a speckled spot behind her ear, his veins flooding with something rounding relief, Brienne's eventual retaliation coming with a steady squeeze of his ass that had him grinning and groaning into her skin. "It's been a long time since I've let anyone get as close as this."

"Well, if you let me in, sweetling, you're never getting rid of me."

"I think I can live with that."

Jaime thought about kissing her again, wanting to settle his building excitement at even the idea of living with her, but with the sound of grumbling teenage voices growing in volume, he reluctantly helped Brienne off the counter and back onto her wobbly legs, sharing one last embrace as fumbling fingers made clumsy work of refastening a handful of tiny buttons.

"So," he began, flicking his gaze to the baked goods and back to Brienne, taking another long look at the woman he already wanted more of.

"So?"

"Do you want dessert to go?"

Brienne stared for a second before laughing, a rumble of giddy exhilaration that belied the glimmer of sensibility beginning to twist her mouth. "Won't your family mind if we sneak off without saying goodbye?"

"They're not going to hold it against you, if that's what you're concerned about. The kids love you almost as much as I...I think it won't be long before Tyrion is asking us to join him out with the latest girl to catch his eye."

"Jaime..." Brienne whispered, rapidly blinking at the near admission, eagerly winding her fingers through his and squeezing as he led them towards the door. "I'd...like that. I think."

"That would depend on how well you can hold your liquor and if you can handle me when I'm half drunk and over affectionate."

Her blush was chased with a slow blooming smile. "You're not that hard to handle," she muttered darkly and it was Jaime's turn to stop and laugh. "But can we do something different for our first date, please?"

"If dinner tonight doesn't count, then how about your pick of these cakes and coffee at your place later? Or breakfast in bed tomorrow morning, maybe?"

She was still blushing as she tugged him back just far enough to prevent Jaime from leaving the kitchen, unselfconsciously stepping in to his welcoming arms and heaving a deep breath as he took the opportunity to mould himself around the sweet, slight, softness of her toned frame.

"Key lime pie?" Brienne exhaled, unknowingly making it sound like a suggestion that he wouldn't be able to turn down. "And we say goodnight before we leave? It's the least I can do after promising Tommen a game."

"Done and done," Jaime agreed, punctuating each word with longing, deepening kisses that she met happily. "You can always take a rain check and come back next week."

"Okay," she murmured, continuing to melt against him. "I'll bring us a pizza."

"Gods, you're perfect."

"You say that now," came the mumbled reply, Brienne suddenly intent on inexpertly exploring along his jaw, catching the skin under silver and gold hairs between her lips as she started to gently, hesitantly, mark him in return. Jaime could only shiver for a moment, overwhelmed with the sparks she was creating.

"And I'll say that later, too," he purred, unwilling to let any of her insecurities have the last word. "When I'm in your bed and you're writhing beneath me and tomorrow morning and...and-" Brienne suckled harder and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from growling. "Gods, woman, we really should think about calling a cab before we end up fucking on a counter top."

She jumped back instantly, looking so far past embarrassed it was endearing. "I-I got a little...carried away there," she apologised to the floor. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he grinned. "More than okay. I was enjoying you getting 'carried away.' And you've just given the ladies at the market something new to gossip about, come Monday morning I'll have to tell them a blue eyed Amazon attacked me in my kitchen." Jaime ran his hand over his jaw and down his neck, smiling rather than wincing at the tenderly claimed spots he found as she discovered another reason to glare down at him, his words turning soft and tender in response. "Why don't you go and say goodnight and I'll grab the pie. There's the number of a cab company on the fridge..."

"2902 Summerhall Drive," Brienne answered as if she'd read his mind.

"I'll be along in a minute."

***********************************************

It was closer to five minutes by the time Jaime had calmed down enough to call for a ride without having to stop to catch his breath, filling two of Walda's Tupperware boxes with Brienne's pie, a handful of cookies, tarts, and scones, and two giant slices of chocolate cake, figuring they would work most of it off before tomorrow anyway. Despite the evening ticking away, Brienne was still locked in conversation with Myrcella at the end of the hallway as he walked up and wrapped his weaker arm around her muscular middle, revelling in the tiny sigh Brienne couldn't help but emit at the simple touch.

"The cab's on its way," he murmured along her cheek, watching a wave of unabashed delight sweep across Myrcella's face as she observed the clear change in their dynamic.

"I don't know how Uncle Jaime sold your first date as a family meet and greet, but it was really nice that you came to visit us when you could have just gone to see a movie or something."

"It wasn't supposed to be a date," Jaime and Brienne corrected in near unison, causing the co-conspirator in matchmaking mischief to giggle.

"Just remember Sands is on at eight p.m. tomorrow night, not nine. And we're out of popcorn," she told them, aiming for serious but unable to control her brighter, lighter emotions. "But there's not going to be anyone here most of tomorrow so..."

"You're not going to wait up?" Jaime all but laughed, squeezing Brienne a little tighter as he felt her tense, concerned that she was already starting to overthink what they were about to do. "Do you hear my niece trying to skirt around the indelicacies of how much I want you?" he murmured, earning himself a gentle, though well aimed, elbow in his side and a muttered hiss that sounded like his name. But her smile was creeping back, just twitching along her still kiss swollen lips.

"She wouldn't have to if you weren't being so _obvious_ ," Brienne hissed in a whispered reply.

"You love it."

"No," she retorted bluntly, Jaime straining to hear the words that dipped and disappeared under her breath as his phone cried out a signal that their modest chariot had arrived. "I love _you_. There's a difference."

"I know." Without another thought, Jaime leaned in to kiss her, catching his lips on the soft, sensitive, underside of her jaw before returning the sentiment against her burning ear. "Should we go?"

"Yes…please."

"If you keep saying things like that, I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off you."

"You're not doing too good a job of that now."

"That's because," he kissed her again. "You are," and again. "Irresistible."

"Jaime."

"I can't decide if you're adorable or sickening," Myrcella interrupted without a hint that she had overheard a single word they had exchanged, opening her arms to first hug Brienne, then Jaime, as they disentangled in order to make their way to the door. "Though, if I believe Uncle Tyrion, since it's taken you so long to get together, I shouldn't waste any more of your time and just say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Myrcella," Brienne smiled, offering her another hug while Jaime looked on, the younger woman promising to study the guides that had been left behind. "I'll see you all next weekend?"

Cella nodded. "Sunday. I'm at cheerleading camp next week in Sunspear. It'll give you two a chance to have a proper Saturday night date night, though."

"There's still time tonight," Jaime murmured suggestively, noticing how quickly Brienne's blush streaked back up her neck as she ignored him to wave at Tommen and Tyrion who were looking on from the dining room, before slipping silently past his gentlemanly outstretched arm into the sultry evening air.

He hurried to open the cab door, Brienne's raised brows and gently rolling eyes indicating her doubts on his apparent best intentions. And though her unladylike scramble into the backseat provided him with an excellent view of her impressively toned ass and thighs, even better now that he had felt them squeeze and shift against him, Jaime resisted the urge to touch until he'd climbed in beside her and Brienne's address had been confirmed with the driver.

"They're going to try and adopt you, if you're not careful," he joked, feeling the leather beneath him move as she awkwardly rearranged her legs, her head almost on his shoulder but still close enough for him to kiss her temple without needing to do more than turn his head.

"Hmmmm," Brienne hummed absently, her fingers hovering between his shoulder and chest as if unable to decide which set of muscles to reacquaint herself with first. "That might make dating awkward but at least...I mean, if...we, if...t-things went well, I wouldn't have...at least you'd have space for me."

"Yes, after rattling around for all these years in a three storey, six bedroom house, I'm sure we'd squeeze you in somewhere," he snarked, too caught up in how far ahead her thoughts were rushing to be entirely sensible. "I have an entire side of my bed that hasn't been used, maybe you'd fit in there and help me warm it up when winter comes."

Her hand fluttered again and Jaime plucked it from the air, tempted to bring it down over his crotch but choosing to settle it on his heart, feeling every inch the romantic fool. "Since you mentioned dating," he began, unusually hesitant. "You could always take me to the veterans’ ball. I still have an unopened invite and I'd love to go and show you off to every jerk who didn't think you were good enough."

"You don't have to do that. I'm happy staying home that night."

"I know. And I'd be just as happy to stay in with you," he told the top of her head as she gave up resisting the urge to lay it down, giving him the opportunity to let her feel protected, maybe even delicate, for a change. "Staying in bed sounds like an even better idea. But if you wanted to see your godfather and catch up with everyone you care about, my cousins always go with their wives and..."

"Not the same cousins I had to escort out of the hospital when they stayed well past visiting hours?" She lifted her chin so that she could look up at him, the contradiction of an adoring glare making Jaime laugh.

"Addam and Daven. And we were only playing cards, you were quite welcome to join us, remember?"

"As if I'd forget," she snapped, and then followed it up softly. "It was the first time you'd laughed since you'd arrived with us. I couldn't let that go."

"Even then?" he asked, surprised to find her feelings may have been bubbling away for longer than he'd ever expected.

"You were starting to grow on me," Brienne scoffed. "When...when I m-missed having you around during the Winterfest holidays, I think..."

She didn't get much further into that thought as Jaime moved to take her lips, still hungry for the blistering parry and attack that arose from each investigative touch. But after a handful of thoroughly reckless kisses, Jaime was the one to pull away first. "Come to the ball with me," he purred, nipping at the blotches of heated arousal covering her neck as the cab driver coughed and she immediately retreated back behind the walls he'd been tearing down all night. "We don't have to stay all night, just...come with me."

"You'll be bored."

Jaime snorted. "Not fucking likely. Good food, good company, and I'll have you in a dress that I can take off later. I don't know what your ever so honourable mind classes as a good time, wench, but I could think of a lot worse things to be doing."

"Jaime, you don't..."

"I've seen the photos in your office, Brienne, your dresses may be hideous but you've always had a smile on your face," he reminded gently, drawing out her name before she could correct the use of something that was once only used to wound. "No one is going to think any less of you for liking some part of that circus. Especially not me."

"I'm-I'm not very...I don't...they don't ask, not since…" she averted her eyes as if ashamed of what she was about to admit. ”I like the dancing."

"Then, just try not to step on my toes. And, when I ask, for seven’s sake, let me lead.”

Brienne stared at him for a moment, open mouthed, and as she regained her composure slowly, like he was watching melting ice or dripping honey, she let out a deep breath. “I won’t fight you, if you know what you’re doing.”

“Promises, promises,” Jaime chuckled, the sound echoing as Brienne’s palm knocked against his shoulder, her lips barely coming into contact with his laughing mouth. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“If you took things more seriously,” she sighed, his next kiss coming with a nip that he enjoyed just as much as Brienne did. “Gods, you actually _like_ the fight?”

“You don’t get to see how glorious you are when you’re all riled up.” Trailing his fingers up her side, he let them linger in a spot that made her hips kick forward, swirling and circling until her eyes closed. He stole the moan from escaping her throat, feeling it reverberate through him. “I’m taking this seriously. And I know _exactly_ what I’m doing.”

Her laugh was another broken exhale, almost leaving Jaime with the distinct impression that she was trying to tease him in return, although the hands coming up to cradle his face spoke of other emotions that he was just as eager to explore. After stealing another touch, he waited until Brienne had settled back into her earlier position, pulling her legs up into his lap as she started to narrate their journey. Past the public pool, where Brienne and her friends used to trade home baked goods for after-hours access, past the dog park where he pointed out he’d been running with the two former strays Tyrion had adopted, past the Crowned Rose yoga studio she had recommended only days earlier, though it felt like a lifetime ago.

And as they rounded the last corner that led into an almost quaint quarter of the city, Brienne quietly asked him about his birthday, breaking the silence that had descended so comfortably.

“Tyrion will let you know what he has planned. Last year I was still…fighting,” he paused and felt Brienne tighten her hold on him. “So he’s got a couple of year’s worth of ideas to work with.”

“I have a cabin,” she blurted. “I mean, my dad has a cabin. In the Vale. It’s really nice this time of year, you can hike and climb and swim and…I have some holiday coming up if you wanted to go with me.” The last sentence blurred into one word as Brienne rushed through the unexpected invitation, no sooner asked before she was overthinking the uncharacteristically rash decision. “If you have other things to do, it’s…”

“I’d love to,” Jaime replied just as softly, untangling their limbs to pay the driver as they pulled up outside of a modest, though clearly well cared for, red brick home. “I’d love to go in the winter, too. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out on the snow.”

“I d-don’t ski,” she stuttered, leading the way up her twilight lit drive.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll teach you. And you can make sure I’m properly recovered in a hot tub afterwards.”

Brienne looked down at him from the corner of her eye, her smile and nod barely noticeable as she rested the cake boxes on a whitewashed step to search for her keys.

“I can’t wait to tell the guys at the hospital that we’re together.”

A handful of metal fell out of her pocket as she turned. “You want to so soon?”

“I don’t want to hide.”

“Oh.”

“Well there’s Pia in the reception, who can’t stop flirting, the guys in the gym, Hyle, _of course_ , and…”

“Jaime?” she called, standing in the open doorway as red as a tomato, failing spectacularly at being coy, though he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “W-would you like some coffee...to go with dessert?”

He grinned, reaching for her outstretched hand before following Brienne over the threshold and into the start of the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope no one is too disappointed at where this has ended. 
> 
> I've got some ficlets planned for appreciation week, and another fic I really should finish, but I am tempted to come back to this universe and write Jaime and Brienne's night at the veterans ball at some point :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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